


Smutty Literature Vol II

by StalineBC



Series: Smutty Literature [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-03
Updated: 2015-06-03
Packaged: 2018-04-02 17:33:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4068595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StalineBC/pseuds/StalineBC
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cullen and Trevelyan smutty smutter smutt. Spoilers I guess? I mean the games been out for a while, but yeah, spoilers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Smutty Literature Vol II

It started with broken glass. The next thing she knew, Cullen had shoved everything off the desk and was climbing on top of it with her. She pressed her body to his, desperate to feel the solid heat beneath his armor. His teeth grazed her neck, and she buried her face into his furry pauldrons.  
For some odd reason, Evelyn was shocked to find they smelled of him.  
‘Well, of course they do, stupid.’ She thought to herself, ‘He wears them all the time. Minus training.’  
Tonight, though, she was determined to get him out of them. For the moment, she was content to let him work her, his gloved hands dancing over her ribs and thighs, teasing and daring retaliation. She tried fumbling with the straps to his chestplate, losing her grip when his tongue and lips found that sweet spot near her collarbone.  
“Cullen? Maybe, ah! Dear Maker, Cullen… My room, please?”  
“No. Can’t wait.” He murmured, “Need you. Here. Now.”  
“Your bed, at least?”  
He laughed into the valley between her breasts, still covered by that damnable shirt, “You expect me to watch you climb a ladder like this?” He motioned between them. Even under his stiff leathers, his discomfort was apparent.  
“It’s that, or watch me saunter back to my quarters by myself.”  
“And risk Varric seeing you with love bites and swollen lips?” He seized those lips once again, quickly.  
“I risk worse than that every time I go out with him and Bull. Besides, if he asked, I’d tell him exactly what happened.”  
“And he’d tell everyone.”  
“That I don’t mind. But I would tell him to put it in the book he’s writing for Cassandra.”  
“You wouldn’t.” She licked his lip and bit. Of course she would.  
“Evil woman.”

He had heard some Templars compare being with a woman to the rush of lyrium in your veins. This was nothing like that. Lyrium was a slow ache, filling a void inside, and when the rush was over, it began eating away at the edges, making it bigger, deeper. Blacker. Enough to lose yourself and be swallowed whole.  
This, with Evelyn… It was nothing like lyrium. She filled the void, mending it. Stitching his pieces back together. She healed him in a way no one had ever done before. There had been few women in his life, and while they had filled the empty for a moment, it hadn’t felt like this. Maker, nothing has ever felt like this.  
“Cullen?” He glanced up to a questioning gaze. “Is everything okay?”  
“Perfect. Everything is perfect. You… you are perfect…”  
Evelyn lay on his bed, bare before him, swathed in moonlight and candle glow. Her skin flushed from frantic grasps and stolen kisses. She gleamed with sweat, but it just made her more… perfect. He laughed to himself, amazed at how she could turn him into, well, whatever he was right now. ‘Maker’s Breath, I can’t even find the right words.’  
“You are, too.” She said softly.  
“I are-am what?” He stuttered, jolted out of his thoughts  
“Perfect.”  
She reached for him for the second time, and he arched into her touch. Her fingers deftly gripped him, massaging his length. When she placed her mouth upon him, he nearly lost himself again. He made her stop, and returned the favour, savouring her taste and smell. It felt like velvet beneath his lips, and inside, silk. She cried out suddenly, and he felt her move around his fingers, tightening.  
“Adraste’s Flaming Knickers… Cullen, you’re going to kill me.”  
“I hope not, but there are worse ways to go.” He positioned himself between her legs, and entered slowly, playing it for all he was worth. She writhed beneath him in sweet agony, wimpering his name, an incoherent prayer. The only words he recognized were ‘Cullen’ and ‘Please’.  
This wasn’t the same, slow lesson of the hour before. This wasn’t a learning of her body and desires. This was his need, his want, his hunger. Savage and and ravenous, he took her in a way that might have shamed him if she hadn’t met his hips each time. She bit his neck and shoulders, racked his back. They kissed and nipped in the same breath, only stopping for her to cry out his name again.  
He pressed his hips harder against her, grinding into her sex, trying to will their bodies into one. He felt her clench and tighten around him, a silken vice pulling him in and away from himself. His heart was pounding in his ears, and he literally saw stars for a moment. He felt like the Maker inside her, and suddenly understood why He had taken Andraste.

Later, when their breathing had calmed and searching hands slowed into a steady stroke of arms and backs, he begged forgiveness for that blasphemous thought, and thanked for this amazing gift.  
“Cullen? Are you awake?”  
“No.”  
“Smart ass.”  
“What is it?”  
“I love you. Thank you.”  
“I love you, too. And for what?”  
“For this. For everything.”  
“You are very welcome, though I should be thanking you.”  
“Nonsense. I love you.”  
“I love you, too.”  
They grew quiet again, and he felt her breathing even out, watched as she drifted away, listened to her dream murmurs, and thanked the Maker, for the thousandth time again today, for sending her when they needed her. When he needed her. 


End file.
